WizardStuck
by Raseri
Summary: In which the wizarding world attempts to reconnect with Alternia, offering 12 young trolls and one adult troll a "scholarship" to Hogwarts. The Condesce agrees and shenanigans ensue. Meanwhile, Jack is obviously up to no good. Rated T for now, Terezi is not the only main character, takes place way after book 8, Kids never played Sburb/grub, multiple pairings later in story
1. No Hero

Chapter 1 - No Hero

**Raseri: Write/Publish First Chapter**

"Woah woah, who up and made you boss of me?" You yell at the fourth wall angrily, throwing your hands up in the air. You glare at the fourth wall. Oh how you would love to smash through the fourth wall and hit the reader in the face.

But you're joking, of course! After all, the reader (that is, you, the reader) came here of his/her own free will to read this little fanfiction.

Seriously, though, who bosses around the author?

**Raseri: CUT TO THE CHASE AND STATE THE DISCLAIMER**

"Don't you use caps lock on me!" You wag your finger at the naughty reader, sending the reader to his/her room for using caps lock on you. But you still follow their... suggestion and state the disclaimer.

"No, I don't own Homestuck or Harry Potter... Fuck, I'm really acting like Hussie though, aren't I?" You sigh and sit on your bed, grabbing your laptop and begin to type.

"Well, here you have it, the introductory chapter of WizardStuck! Hope you enjoy. R&R is also welcome, of course!" You give a sly wink towards the fourth wall before turning your attention back to your story.

**Be Jack Noir**

You are now Jack Noir.

That was a stupid statement. Of course you're Jack Noir, who else would you be? That famous Potter guy? He's too old for you to be him right now, and frankly, you wouldn't be him even if he was still his spunky 18 year old self like he was back in the day.

Back in the day, you sigh. Back in the day you looked up to him when he defeated Voldemort and ended his reign of terror- it was the biggest thing to hit this planet since sliced bread came into existence.

What stopped you from your admiration? The fact that he became warped from his own power and publicity, indulging in fine delicacies only available to the extremely rich and famous while the rest of the impoverished magical world suffered pretty much had something to do with it. He left everything to his kids, especially the dirty work that came with re-establishing order in the world. Everyone had looked to him for leadership, yet he claimed that he was no leader, and instead left the world to its own devices- a world which he had birthed himself.

Frankly, thinking of that Potter kid makes you want to stab something.

Well, that was your opinion, anyway. And to be honest, who really cared about the opinion of a blackened-with-age man who chose the darkness of the endless halls of the department of mystery rather than the company other wizards?

Regardless of what was right and wrong in your own perspective, everything began to change for both the muggle and the magical world almost immediately after Voldemort's defeat. Muggles were welcomed and introduced into the magical society and the long-sought process of rehabilitation started for the human race. Buildings were established, connections made, and societies for the "better of the people" were formed.

Yet there was still darkness that others seemed to carelessly look over. You saw it. How could you not? It was as painfully obvious as the sun in the damned sky on a cloudy summer day.

You saw as the minister made his shady deals, how he paid off his officers to do his bidding because they were out of his political party. You witnessed the higher ranking departments using their own money to rise through the ranks; tipping off criminals, releasing them, then recapturing them in a vicious cycle to achieve glory. Meanwhile, they deceived the media into thinking that they were, in fact, the biggest heroes this god damned planet had ever seen.

All of that crap was so full of shit you couldn't even stand to look at more than half of your coworkers. You really wanted to stab them sometimes. You would think about it, once in awhile, how easy it would be to pull out your trusty butterfly knife that was always in your pocket and shank someone right between the eyes.

Everything and everyone may have changed in the world around you, yet you, on the other hand, have yet to see something different in your own life. Here you are, same as you were 50 years ago, still in the Department of Mysteries, still working for the same dreadful ministry, still underpaid and overworked.

Still bored with the life as you knew it and sure as hell damned tired of being part of the political games that came with being a part of the government.

You have begun to think that perhaps the excitement that was told was coming wasn't all that it was fucking meant to be. With the death of the Dark Lord life as all beings knew was supposed to be better. Yet it seemed as if time had just up and taken everyone back into the times when the magical population believed that Voldemort had been defeated by a diaper-pooping baby.

Wasn't the world supposed to rally for freedom? Equality for all? Equal wages? Job opportunities? You can't even get a cigarette without breathing in the air of pressure the ministry has on it these days! Since the Dark Lord's downfall they have been struggling to meet demands. All of them.

No, only the muggles were reaping the profits from this whole mess. Who gave a rats ass about them anyway? All they ever did was nag and whine and bitch and complain about how they were powerless to do basically shit close to nothing.

That was the main reason why you chose to deal with this side of the ministry; the side that had absolutely zilch to do with anyone but yourself.

With time passing by yourself you began to realize that perhaps you should take action into your own greasy little wrinkled paws. If these dumb douchebags couldn't do a mans work, then god damn it a man should step in and get some work done.

A smirk that shows off your pearly whites, something that rarely happens across your usually disgusted face, graces your small facial features as you hurriedly turn on your heel, having second thoughts about actually doing the paperwork you were supposed to be doing today. Your superior seems to indulge in satisfaction whenever she drops a load of that dreadful paperwork onto your desk every other morning.

Due to her past work as an auror, and having had a reputation for showing no mercy to her victims, some people have given her the nickname "the Black Witch." You however prefer the nickname "Insufferable Bitch" instead. Has more of a ring to it. Her real name is, oddly enough, Snowman.

You cross by her office silently, down the hall and to your left, down another hall and through a couple of dimly lighted corridors. It takes you more than a good amount of walking before you arrive at your office. Once there you spare no time locking the door behind you before proceeding to remove the myriad of protection and shield spells that you placed all around the back room of your office. A painting appeared on the large back wall when the spells had been taken off.

It wasn't anything special, more or less because it did not move and was not extremely elaborate or in anyway pleasing to the eye. It depicted two blackened figures standing on the roof of a building, facing away from each other.

If you were any other person besides you, you would have guessed that perhaps it had been two lovers of some sort, about to commit suicide because of some bull shit about not being able to be together.

But you are Jack Noir, and therefore you are you, so you do not see two lovers about to kill themselves. Instead you see two enemies about to duel for who gets to keep their life. The two people stand out in such amazing contrast against the green city below them, the starry sky above them, and a giant grey moon hanging over head that you wish you could be in such a place yourself for once instead of this shit dump named London.

Moving on, you wave your black willow wand in a simple flicking motion and even the painting disappeared, fading into nothing but another hallway. You glide forward and reset the spells behind you, wary that if anyone were to discover what you have done, what you have really been working on, what your method of change and excitement was, that you would probably go to Azkaban or be killed on spot.

No matter, they weren't going to find you and that was that. Even if they were to find you, you had made an escape route long ago so that you (and your work) could get away safely.

You dawn a safety coat and tucking away your wand into a nice pocket you proceed into the large room where various scientific research had obviously been occurring for quite awhile. You can not exactly remember when you first started, but it had started as an idea, something you had sort of stolen from various dictators and conquerors from histories past.

Walking up to the very back of the room you find yourself looking at six quite large glass cylinders, all filled with water and each one containing some sort of floating mass.

This was the pride of your work. This was what was going to change the world.

The saying goes "idle fingers are the devil's workshop" and god damn are there little Satans in every single digit on your goddamned paws.

Your name is Jack Noir, and you have been a _very_ naughty boy.

**Be the Insufferable Bitch**

That is not your name, and it never will be, no matter how much Jack insists that it is. You are a lady of elegance, poise, and cruelty known only by those unfortunate enough to have the displeasure of working under you.

Alright, perhaps you do deserve the title. Yet these thoughts are of little purpose at the moment.

You keep track of the light footsteps that grow and shrink past your room in a matter of less than a minute. You freeze in your seat placed at your desk, hands wringing each other and head hung in thought. The others in the quite large room freeze as well, and for a moment there is a moment where no one breathes the smoke-filled air.

You have been working with Jack for well over 50 years now. You have been working with him for so long that even his stupid nickname, Spades Slick, is something that only you actually remember.

The both of you are just about ready to retire, truth be told. In fact, if Jack hadn't gone and fucked everything up for you you would be on a plane to Malibu on retirement. But no, he could never have allowed you the pleasure of getting out of the job easily. Instead, he had to start illegally experiment with god-knows-what, and of course, you were the one put in charge of stopping him.

You're not even sure what put the thought in his head to start this disastrous fiasco in the first place. How could he even think that he would get away with this without the Ministry knowing? Perhaps he did know that you would have found out one way or another eventually. You mumbled to yourself. Or maybe he really was a pathetic idiot who didn't even know two shits of what it was he was doing.

You gathered yourself with a drawn out sigh and raised your head, counting to one hundred and going through your list of mastered spells through your head before you got up, indicating for the aurors in the room to spring into action. The 12 of you quietly exited your office and made your way to Noir's.

When you first noticed his strange behaviours around 14 years ago you paid no mind to them. However, they progressively became more and more difficult to ignore and finally you decided to investigate for yourself. What you found was an elaborate amount of spells in his storage room, indicating an obviously well kept something that Jack did not want anybody to know about.

You had come back to his office every once in awhile to investigate further. You had no way of disabling the spells and did not know if Minister English had assigned him something top secret to work on for him. If that had been the case then you had no business to interfere and look into this matter yourself. That is, until one day he slipped up.

You had come into his office only a month ago. It was a Saturday night, and all workers under the Ministry always had Sunday off (unless, of course, there was an emergency). And so, you did some late night snooping, still not totally convinced that this was just some private matter between the Minister and Jack.

What you had found was something small, something meager and nothing anyone would have noticed were you not you.

Upon discovering the substance pooled behind a box you were not exactly sure what to make of it. It had a fluid like consistency and had no real smell besides something that caught you as a bit... tangy. It was a peculiar green and you had no idea what it was.

Taking out your wand you had taken a sample and taken it for testing. What you had found had only made you more confident that whatever it was Jack was up to, it was not good for anyone; magical or wizard. You had reported your findings to English that Tuesday. English had been surprised at first, then became extremely furious and ordered for a plan to be made immediately.

And so here you were, going out with his plan. Perhaps Jack would die tonight, and you weren't show how you really felt about that. In your line of work, though, feelings did not count, and should never interfere with the task at hand.

Arriving at his office you unlock the door and step inside. The group of Aurors and you once made up a feared group nicknamed The Felt, and you all still had that sort of connection that made up a flawless natural instinct that seemed to work in your favor regarding teamwork. No words were spent directing orders or confirming evidence. You all had a job to do and you were going to do it the right way.

As far as any of you knew, Jack was so far unaware of any of you being in his office. You all gather into the back room of his office where he stored his files and such and apparently this one big secret of his.

You raised your wand first, slowly unworking the numerous amount of spells he had placed. One by one the others joined you, and soon enough you heard a faint "click" almost inaudible to the human ear, indicating that the numerous spells had been unweaved.

A painting appeared before you, something that gave you a nauseating sense of deja vu and made you want to burn it until it was simply a pile of ashes on the cold floor. You could not place the thought but you had seen it before, however it was gone just a second later due to someone behind you waving his wand, making the work of art disappear before you could thoroughly study it.

The 12 of you froze almost as if on cue once you heard the clinking of metal coming from deep within the corridor in front of you. Advancing slowly you found that Jack had a whole entire lab at his disposal back here, and quite honestly you were astonished at how he had managed to sneak everything through and somehow build this without anyone really noticing.

Speaking of Jack, where was he? A quick scan across the room showed that he was not among his various contraptions. Confusion hit you. You were positive he had been here. Was it possible that-

You had no time to finish that thought as in less than a seconds notice Jack jumped out from behind a large metal machine and started firing curses and spells at them. You quickly jump out of the way and cast an Anti-Disapparition Jinx, preventing Jack- or anyone for that matter- from leaving the room.

"Confringo!" You grimace at Crowbar's yell, the machine that Jack had jumped from exploding into flames on impact. Jack jumped out of the way yelling, probably suffering a couple of burns.

"Aguamenti!" You counter and settle the flames. "Do not destroy his work! We need it to convict him!" You turn on your heel and try to help the rest of the aurors surround Jack, trapping him in a circle. The fight lasted about three minutes and already Matchsticks, Biscuits, and Fin were down. The rest of you had Noir trapped in a corner, his wand six feet away from him.

"Give in, Slick, and we won't have to kill you." You say calmly, closing in on him. All you got was a smirk in response before he pressed himself into the wall, quite literally, and vanished.

**Be Jack Again**

You are now Jack Noir again, and you are running for your life. That bitch would kill you if she caught you, and that was motivation enough to keep your old legs from stopping. Granted, you were in pretty good physical form at this age, and you were quite thankful for that.

You figured that the getaway method spared you at least one or two minutes before Crowbar just knocked down the wall and pursued you. Yet that was plenty of time to make your escape.

You ran to the end of the passageway but was stopped by the menacing figures of Sawbuck and Cans standing at the fork. You grunted in frustration and slid to a stop, minding racing to figure out what to do, what to do-

No time, they were advancing, and fast considering their overbearing body structures. You didn't have your wand so you reached into your pocket and pulled out your butterfly knife, twirling it menacingly between your fingers as you dodged not only their hits but their spells as well.

Cans threw a punch down at you and you jumped onto his giant arm, stabbing him at any face you could reach. It seemed that at that moment, luck was on your side, as you managed to get him right through the eye.

You jumped off of him and pulled your knife out in one fluid motion, turning the corner and running as fast as you could. Behind you there was grotesque screaming of pain before it died down completely- whether you ran so fast you got far enough away from them or if Cans was dead you had no idea.

It was not long before you found yourself looking down the vastness of the main room located in this department. Countless rows of countless prophetic spheres all in one large endless room. It never ceased to amaze you, and once in awhile you would come here to listen to the whispers of prophecies that had nothing to do with you. Now was not the time for lingering, though.

You sped past the rows, hoping to lose the footsteps you heard behind you. There were crashes as spells flew over your head. You almost smirked to yourself in self-satisfaction that none had been able to even come close to your person-

"Fuck!" You scream in pain, clutching the bleeding stub that used to be your left arm. Hissing in pain your knees buckle for a second, yet you push forward, ignoring the pain as best as you could.

Tears stung at your eyes; you had never been in more physical pain than that moment and being way too old to be doing any of this crap was not helping in the least mother fucking bit.

You quickly find out that no, adrenaline does not actually block out pain like some of those crappy ass stories you waste your time reading say, and in the middle of a circular room you collapse onto your hands- well, hand, and knees, panting.

At that moment you could not care less for the approaching footsteps, but nonetheless start to crawl forward as best as you could. Your vision was starting to become blurry, and blackness was slowly ebbing away at the floor you could see.

"Looks like your time is up, Slick," says an all too familiar voice. You let out an exasperated sigh and mentally scream at yourself to pick yourself up, managing to get onto first only your knees, but then wobbly on both feet (not without difficulty, though). You turn slowly, but the first thing you noticed wasn't Snowman, who was pointing her wand right at your head.

No, it was the massive amounts of blood- _your blood_- in little pools that you had left splattered on the floor from your wound. Vaguely you wondered where your arm was and let out a little scoff, which only egged (ha) Snowman on to say some more bullshit "you were careless and you should give yourself up and what you did you will be punished for" stuff that you weren't even paying attention to.

Your blood got you thinking. It got you thinking about blood in general and that, maybe, perhaps this wasn't over yet. Perhaps you still had a chance for a little...

…

…. Wait for it...

…..

Excitement.

A dread noise that ripped at your ears and made Snowman stop talking while the rest of The Felt caught up spilled through the air. It was dry and cruel, and you weren't at all surprised to find that it was your own cackling at your stupid inside joke.

"My time? Up? Fuck no, I'm only just getting started!" You laugh dryly. They stood in front of you, frozen in place as you let your laughter died down. "Have fun, I'll see you in hell." There was a chorus of shouts and spells, but they all missed as you jumped into the veil behind you, never to be seen again.

Everything finally goes dark for you as you plunge into the same fate that Villain-Turned-Hero Sirius Black did almost 55 years ago. But you are no hero.

No, you grin to yourself.

You are, by your standards, the best god damned thing to happen to this pitiful piece of shit for a planet since mother fucking sliced bread.

**END CHAPTER 1**

**Authors Note:** I got more than a bit impatient with my friend who was going to edit this, so excuse any tense-related mistakes (that I know are there). They will be fixed soon enough :) As a side note, I'm looking for a beta for later chapters, so if anyone wants the job send me a message!


	2. Death of Snowman

**CHAPTER 2** - The Death of Snowman

**Authors Note:** Yes, yes, I know it says that the 12 trolls are involved and such (and the alpha/beta kids too). They will be coming into the story in the next chapter~ Enjoy chapter 2! My editor is working on editing the first chapter and is almost completely done. Homestuck doesn't belong to me and neither does Harry Potter. Also, reviews make me happy ;)

_Everything finally goes dark for you as you plunge into the same fate that Villain-Turned-Hero Sirius Black did almost 60 years ago. But you are no hero._

_No, you grin to yourself._

_You are, by your standards, the best god damned thing to happen to this pitiful piece of shit for a planet since mother fucking sliced bread._

**Be Snowman**

You watch as Jack fades into the black of the veil. You lower your wand, knowing it to be useless to try and pursue him now.

Nobody ever comes back from behind the veil, and Jack is obviously no exception.

Your group stands in silence for a couple of moments, trying to let everything that just happened sink in before you take action. It doesn't sink in. In fact, you are quite speechless and almost surprised that Jack is now gone from your life. He was a constant, something that never really changed and you didn't think would ever leave you.

Yet here you were, Jackless.

You narrowed your eyes and lowered your head only slightly.

Were you mourning your loss? Hell no. If anything, it was a gain. A gain of peace and quiet and complete relaxation from this point onward. At least, that was what you were telling yourself.

There was still the matter at hand to attend to. You still had to observe Jack's experiments and report to Lord English. If you didn't your head wouldn't be on your shoulders in a matter of hours.

Besides, curiosity had sunken it's greedy little claws into your brain and you were currently torturing yourself with possibilities of what you and the rest of The Felt would be "having fun" with.

What exactly had Jack made? You for that to be a thought. Apparently you were thinking too loud because you hear the rustle of clothing behind you, the boys probably thought you had made an order they hadn't heard.

"Go back to his lab and see what you can find. I'm going to report to English." You turn to face them as you get ready to go to his office. "Try not to bother us, we all know how much he hates interruptions and doesn't exactly take well to them." The group nodded in agreement and went to clean up the mess as well as get a look into what Jack was doing after you gave further orders to take care of any dead or injured persons.

A second later found you with a tugging at your navel, followed by a dizzying sensation that you had gotten used to over the years from using apparition so frequently.

You were now outside of the Minister's office on the other side of the Ministry and ready to face your absolute doom. In all honesty, you weren't completely sure whether or not Lord English was going to kill you tonight for not catching Spades, but you could only hope at the moment.

You dust off your clothes and straighten them a bit, making sure to look your best as always despite the slight traces of still sticky blood on your shoes.

A shaking hand reaches out and grasps the doorknob, turning it slowly to reveal a very large dark office. The walls were almost completely bare with a couple of awards and such here and there. On one side of the office was a lamp that was currently off, which she knew just from being in here so frequently lit up the pool table located right underneath it. On the other side a large bookshelf filled with things she never really bothered to look at. In the middle of these too more than ordinary things was a black desk, which was dwarfed in comparison to the large chair that held-

"Come in, Snowman."

Lord English.

He was staring you down, fingers laced and elbows propped up. His skin was almost a sickening green when in the darkness. And now, due to the dim lights, his high cheekbones were only accented by said complexion. There was almost no color in his face besides his cheeks which almost looked permanently sunburnt. Lord English was a bald wizard who appeared to be very young despite his old age. It was a very unusual day for him to not be wearing his trademark bright green suit with rainbow trimming. No one questioned it, too afraid that he may induce some painful curse on their sorry ass.

You almost questioned yourself how he had actually managed to raise into power until you remembered- oh yeah- he was the cousin of Draco Malfoy. He used this to his advantage- not just because of the money, but because he had played his cards right and was able to look like a Saint next to the child of a Death Eater. It had been a great show for the whole wizarding world to see a relative of the Malfoy's, a pure blood, almost looking as if he was repenting for his cousins and his Uncle's sins.

Well, that and he was extremely powerful and terrifying and did you mention that you were practically quaking in your boots from the raw energy emitting from him? Because you were.

You did as he said and closed the door behind you, clearing your throat as you decided to stay standing instead of sitting in one of his chairs. You were scared that if you let your legs relax they would be shaking uncontrollably.

"So?" He asked after a moment of silence. Hot beads of sweat were making their way down the back of your neck as you coughed a second time, a soft "ahem" that scratched at the tense air awkwardly.

"He... got away," you say quietly, "sir."

You await the strike of pain, or maybe the last cry of "Avada Kedavra" before you fall to the ground to your death. However, neither come. He sits silently.

"Sir-"

"Shut up." You stay silent yet again as he gets up from his desk, skulks his way over to the pool table and switches on the light. Lord English grabs a stick from the shelf and examines it half-heartedly. You watch as he sets up the pool table, first taking off the cover, then taking all of the balls and setting them neatly into an almost perfect triangle. He takes the white one and places it gently before the rest, lightly tapping it with the end of the pool stick. The balls scattered as the Minister began his one-man game.

"Where is he." It was more of a statement than a question, but you answered immediately nonetheless.

"He jumped into the veil. But not before I managed to take off his arm and do some serious damage." You added in the last part at the last moment, hoping to at least get some kudos for doing some pretty good damage. Still, you failed, you thought as he grumbled incoherently to himself.

"At least he's gone. What about his work?"

You replied that you had the rest of the team looking over it and going through all of Jack's stuff. You also reported that you knew more than a couple of your teammates were currently out of commission, you did not know to what extent yet, and that they were more than likely on their way to the hospital as they spoke. Less than a minute after your small monologue, Stitch appeared in the room looking quite... disturbed.

You scowl and glare at him, more than a bit offended that he had disobeyed your orders.

"What?" You hiss angrily at him. He squirmed a bit and fiddled with his fingers, something a bit uncharacteristic of him, especially because he had been in English's presence countless times and seemed more or less unaffected at this point by the man's domineering aura. You wonder what could possibly have made him so squirmish? Stitch was, by no means, an easily deterred wizard.

"... You have to come see this," is all he says in a more or less meek manner, something that also struck you as very out of place. The both of you follow him back to your Department, a feeling of unease deciding to settle in your stomach.

You are not sure what it was that had caused him to disobey your orders, however it must have been something very serious.

And that scared you.

Arriving at your destination the three of you made your way through Jack's office and into the back. You really looked around and observed the place. It was quite large, probably due to magic. You were sure of this because a room of this great proportion couldn't have been left undiscovered and unnoticed. There were so many machines for god knows what, so many different devices, so many different experiments...

Stitch led you and English to the very back of the room. A couple others were gathered around it, and soon enough the whole Felt (minus the dead and injured) were standing with you.

"So what is it?" You hear English ask from next to you and you glance at him from the corner of your eye.

"This," started Stitch, "is the pride and joy of Noir's work. We think it's some kind of... bio-entity of some sort." You got a closer look and almost puked. You turned your head and walked a few paces away, wobbling and gasping for air only to cough on it when it came to you. Leaning against a nearby sturdy machine you tried to comprehend why Jack would do something so horrible.

You had heard that there had been a couple missing babies cases but you didn't think that _oh god he was using them for experimentation you've been working with a psycho._

In those tubes were grotesque creatures that were the horrible offspring of science, the devil, and the inner workings of a real mad man. The human babies had been... been _mutated_ into some kind of grey skin creatures and_ dear lord there were horns sticking out of their heads_ and they had these awful pointed teeth sticking out of the front of their mouths-

A horrible thought occurred to you as you looked at the color of one of their open mouths.

It was green.

The small pool of liquid you had found in his office that one day had been their _blood_.

You promptly upchuck your last meal over the dark floors.

Over the next few days only a couple of people were informed of these experiments. You did not care enough to catch their names and the only information you knew of them was that apparently Lord English trusted them enough to share the discovery. You refused to visit the lab again and try to erase all images of the monsters Slick created from your mind, however it didn't seem like it was just that easy.

You began to have horrible nightmares of the little beasts crawling into your room at night and tearing the flesh from your neck while you gurgle out screams. They soon came to name the species Trolls which you thought was quite suitable.

You tried to become completely uninvolved with this whole matter but your job position did not allow it.

Almost a month later there was a meeting for you, English, and the people he had trusted with the knowledge of the trolls. It was to discuss what was to be done with them. Naturally, you wished for their immediate disposal however the rest of the makeshift council decided otherwise. You despise the memory of that day because the second they announced those little disgusting creatures would live ("Snowman, they are still _human_!") you, for lack of better term,_ flipped your mother fucking shit_.

On that day you stormed out of the Minister's office, yelling at the top of your lungs how the Trolls were going to one day come back to haunt all of you and they were definitely going to kill every single normal human being on this god damned planet and so help you god you were_ not letting this happen, no siree, not when you still had this job-_

So he fired you. And you lost all of your power. You became the crazy cat lady in a nice cottage in the countryside of Scotland. You never did get to go to Malibu.

You followed the Trolls in the news. Soon after the decision was made they were exposed to the public, being called "the most successful scientific breakthrough in biological history." The public took it well but it was apparent that the Trolls did not.

The Minister appointed a couple of people to watch over the trolls and try to raise them to fit in with human society. They did possess some magical affinities, however nothing that could turn into something great.

The "project" was at least 10 years of age and you began to realize that your day of death was coming. It was the month before you died, actually, that the Trolls became out of control.

No one really knows the details of what happened, but the small Trolls had somehow gotten extremely violent due to unknown reasons and began to tear down buildings and killing massive amounts of people. It was absolutely horrible, a tragedy and a blemish on the new Minister's records.

Once again the government decided it wanted to remain "humane" and maintain their "human rights" and so began to utilize muggle technology in order to find a new home for this horrible race to start. If they couldn't fit into this society, why not make a new one?

And so they found the grey planet Alternia. Alternia had two moons, one a ghastly pink and the other a striking green. With a surprising amount of speed the trolls were shipped off to start their own civilization in no time at all.

You followed the trip until the day before you died, which found you in coughing fits at your bed. You were old, tired, worn out, wrinkly, and definitely not the woman you used to be. The day of your death the remaining members of The Felt (which were very few) came to visit, hearing that your condition was not the best.

Your last thoughts were a prayer to the human race, and to every living being on Earth.

A prayer that you thought would protect them from those monsters.

You closed your eyes and passed away.


	3. Report

**Chapter 3**

**AN: **Oh god I'm sorry guys about the no update thing. I wanted to do an update every week but that didn't really go as planned. As of now I'm going to be busier than usual with school starting up, and I wanted to post at least something for now (this is my excuse for the extremely short chapter). Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed! The more reviews the more encouraged I am to write~

**Chapter 3**

Be the Messenger.

Request failed. The messenger is frightened out of their pants at the moment and has no time to be himself. The messenger is currently on their way delivering a letter of notice to the Empress Herself, The Condesce. So now, reader, you can easily see why he is having such a nervous breakdown. We can now proceed to reach further into our story, and become the Empress herself.

**Be the Empress.**

You now rule over a whole entire empire of Trolls.

It is quite glorious and amazing in your opinion, that you just have so much power.

And to state the honest truth (which is the only kind there really is)?

You want more. More power, more land, and more pawns to die for your name.

"Hehehe..." Your chuckle echoes around the grand room, which to your displeasure, is currently above water and filled with air.

You have been the Empress of this planet (and a growing number of other planets as well as slave species) for as long as you can remember. Your records tell you that it has been... 500 years now? Not long enough, in your opinion, you think as you smirk to yourself and let out another low menacing laugh.

You plan to one day be the most powerful ruler of, well, everything ever made. You plan to also find a way to get passed your descendants, Feferi, lusus.

You scoff and order a quivering servant to fetch you a glass of anything with alcohol in it. A LOT of alcohol.

That damned Gl'bgolyb was a traitorous being and a terrible lusus. You had counted on him to keep you in power, but instead he goes off to be someone elses lusus! You really should never have procreated. In fact, you swear to yourself, you will never fill a bucket with another as long as you live.

A steady sigh finds its way out of your mouth as the door opens far in front of you and a drink is placed in your hand.

You are on your way back to the hive-planet after a long couple of sweeps of dominating other planets and taking over civilizations. It was quite fun, you must say, watching what hope your enemies had crumbling away before you as you yourself stepped onto the battlefield and crushed them all under your wrath. Alas, it had to come to an end as some matters of urgent importance called for your attention, or at least your "second in command" or sorts, the Grand Highblood of the Subjugglator's, has told you.

Something about your home planet.

Weird.

You haven't heard anything about Earth in a very long time. You only vaguely remember it being filled with pink monkey beasts on two legs that thought of you as monsters. If it had anything to do with that shit-hive of a place then it would involve you either destroying the planet or enslaving the humans.

Or both. You could do with either one.

"Y-your Cruelness..." said the messenger, pulling you out of your thoughts of large, fantastic explosions and the desperate screaming of the people as they burned to death. A deadly smile spread itself across your face, deadly fangs, sharpened teeth, and all. The messenger troll whimpers and bows down immediately, practically flinging himself before you and kissing the ground with his face.

You wait a second for him to peak a glance at you and you motion for him to go on. The troll clears his throat and attempts to wipe the sweat off of his face. More replaces it. He crawls forward and hands your stewardatiator his message, who hands it to you.

Replacing the drink with the scroll you open it with a flick of your wrist and quickly read through its contents. You grumble in disappointment.

"What is it, Mistress?" your stewardatiator asks. In response you pick up your golden trident and lodge it into the cranium of the green blooded messenger. He lets out a startled gurgle before spitting out blood and dying altogether. A couple of servants, probably of the same cast, move forward to drag away the body and another gets down and starts scrubbing the blood away before it stains your wonderful ship floors.

"It seems," you begin, practically seething in your throne, "that Earth wants to become my... ally."

"... Mistress?" You uncross your legs and stand up, putting your hand out automatically. There is a gruesome squelch from your trident being forcefully taken out of the dead messengers body and you close your hand around it. You wipe the end of it on your stewardatiator's fine clothing, cleaning it of any blood, and then make your way down the steps and down the corridors to your personal quarters.

"Tell the Helmsman to make this damned piece of carp go faster, I need to be on Alternia three perigees ago." You don't bother paying attention to the stumbled response as you crumple the paper in your hands, finally going down into the seadweller section of the ship and into your room. The scroll crumbles in the water and you crush it to pieces, finally letting out your true amount of rage at the situation.

Practically everything turns red for you as you break fine china, lamps, chairs, tear apart curtains, rip apart wondering fish.

You find yourself puffing about five minutes later in the middle of your own mess. Floating over to the servants alarms you scream for someone to clean up this oink beast sty before you fired and personally culled every single goddamned staff member on this god damned ship.

Request failed. The messenger is frightened out of their pants at the moment and has no time to be himself. The messenger is currently on their way delivering a letter of notice to the Empress Herself, The Condesce. So now, reader, you can easily see why he is having such a nervous breakdown. We can now proceed to reach further into our story, and become the Empress herself.

Be the Empress.

You now rule over a whole entire empire of Trolls.

It is quite glorious and amazing in your opinion, that you just have so much power.

And to state the honest truth (which is the only kind there really is)?

You want more. More power, more land, and more pawns to die for your name.

"Hehehe..." Your chuckle echoes around the grand room, which to your displeasure, is currently above water and filled with air.

You have been the Empress of this planet (and a growing number of other planets as well as slave species) for as long as you can remember. Your records tell you that it has been... 500 years now? Not long enough, in your opinion, you think as you smirk to yourself and let out another low menacing laugh.

You plan to one day be the most powerful ruler of, well, everything ever made. You plan to also find a way to get passed your descendants, Feferi, lusus.

You scoff and order a quivering servant to fetch you a glass of anything with alcohol in it. A LOT of alcohol.

That damned Gl'bgolyb was a traitorous being and a terrible lusus. You had counted on him to keep you in power, but instead he goes off to be someone elses lusus! You really should never have procreated. In fact, you swear to yourself, you will never fill a bucket with another as long as you live.

A steady sigh finds its way out of your mouth as the door opens far in front of you and a drink is placed in your hand.

You are on your way back to the hive-planet after a long couple of sweeps of dominating other planets and taking over civilizations. It was quite fun, you must say, watching what hope your enemies had crumbling away before you as you yourself stepped onto the battlefield and crushed them all under your wrath. Alas, it had to come to an end as some matters of urgent importance called for your attention, or at least your "second in command" or sorts, the Grand Highblood of the Subjugglator's, has told you.

Something about your home planet.

Weird.

You haven't heard anything about Earth in a very long time. You only vaguely remember it being filled with pink monkey beasts on two legs that thought of you as monsters. If it had anything to do with that shit-hive of a place then it would involve you either destroying the planet or enslaving the humans.

Or both. You could do with either one.

"Y-your Cruelness..." said the messenger, pulling you out of your thoughts of large, fantastic explosions and the desperate screaming of the people as they burned to death. A deadly smile spread itself across your face, deadly fangs, sharpened teeth, and all. The messenger troll whimpers and bows down immediately, practically flinging himself before you and kissing the ground with his face.

You wait a second for him to peak a glance at you and you motion for him to go on. The troll clears his throat and attempts to wipe the sweat off of his face. More replaces it. He crawls forward and hands your stewardatiator his message, who hands it to you.

Replacing the drink with the scroll you open it with a flick of your wrist and quickly read through its contents. You grumble in disappointment.

"What is it, Mistress?" your stewardatiator asks. In response you pick up your golden trident and lodge it into the cranium of the green blooded messenger. He lets out a startled gurgle before spitting out blood and dying altogether. A couple of servants, probably of the same cast, move forward to drag away the body and another gets down and starts scrubbing the blood away before it stains your wonderful ship floors.

"It seems," you begin, practically seething in your throne, "that Earth wants to become my... ally."

"... Mistress?" You uncross your legs and stand up, putting your hand out automatically. There is a gruesome squelch from your trident being forcefully taken out of the dead messengers body and you close your hand around it. You wipe the end of it on your stewardatiator's fine clothing, cleaning it of any blood, and then make your way down the steps and down the corridors to your personal quarters.

"Tell the Helmsman to make this damned piece of carp go faster, I need to be on Alternia three perigees ago." You don't bother paying attention to the stumbled response as you crumple the paper in your hands, finally going down into the seadweller section of the ship and into your room. The scroll crumbles in the water and you crush it to pieces, finally letting out your true amount of rage at the situation.

Practically everything turns red for you as you break fine china, lamps, chairs, tear apart curtains, rip apart wondering fish.

You find yourself puffing about five minutes later in the middle of your own mess. Floating over to the servants alarms you scream for someone to clean up this oink beast sty before you fired and personally culled every single goddamned staff member on this god damned ship.

Be the Messenger.

Request failed. The messenger is frightened out of their pants at the moment and has no time to be himself. The messenger is currently on their way delivering a letter of notice to the Empress Herself, The Condesce. So now, reader, you can easily see why he is having such a nervous breakdown. We can now proceed to reach further into our story, and become the Empress herself.

Be the Empress.

You now rule over a whole entire empire of Trolls.

It is quite glorious and amazing in your opinion, that you just have so much power.

And to state the honest truth (which is the only kind there really is)?

You want more. More power, more land, and more pawns to die for your name.

"Hehehe..." Your chuckle echoes around the grand room, which to your displeasure, is currently above water and filled with air.

You have been the Empress of this planet (and a growing number of other planets as well as slave species) for as long as you can remember. Your records tell you that it has been... 500 years now? Not long enough, in your opinion, you think as you smirk to yourself and let out another low menacing laugh.

You plan to one day be the most powerful ruler of, well, everything ever made. You plan to also find a way to get passed your descendants, Feferi, lusus.

You scoff and order a quivering servant to fetch you a glass of anything with alcohol in it. A LOT of alcohol.

That damned Gl'bgolyb was a traitorous being and a terrible lusus. You had counted on him to keep you in power, but instead he goes off to be someone elses lusus! You really should never have procreated. In fact, you swear to yourself, you will never fill a bucket with another as long as you live.

A steady sigh finds its way out of your mouth as the door opens far in front of you and a drink is placed in your hand.

You are on your way back to the hive-planet after a long couple of sweeps of dominating other planets and taking over civilizations. It was quite fun, you must say, watching what hope your enemies had crumbling away before you as you yourself stepped onto the battlefield and crushed them all under your wrath. Alas, it had to come to an end as some matters of urgent importance called for your attention, or at least your "second in command" or sorts, the Grand Highblood of the Subjugglator's, has told you.

Something about your home planet.

Weird.

You haven't heard anything about Earth in a very long time. You only vaguely remember it being filled with pink monkey beasts on two legs that thought of you as monsters. If it had anything to do with that shit-hive of a place then it would involve you either destroying the planet or enslaving the humans.

Or both. You could do with either one.

"Y-your Cruelness..." said the messenger, pulling you out of your thoughts of large, fantastic explosions and the desperate screaming of the people as they burned to death. A deadly smile spread itself across your face, deadly fangs, sharpened teeth, and all. The messenger troll whimpers and bows down immediately, practically flinging himself before you and kissing the ground with his face.

You wait a second for him to peak a glance at you and you motion for him to go on. The troll clears his throat and attempts to wipe the sweat off of his face. More replaces it. He crawls forward and hands your stewardatiator his message, who hands it to you.

Replacing the drink with the scroll you open it with a flick of your wrist and quickly read through its contents. You grumble in disappointment.

"What is it, Mistress?" your stewardatiator asks. In response you pick up your golden trident and lodge it into the cranium of the green blooded messenger. He lets out a startled gurgle before spitting out blood and dying altogether. A couple of servants, probably of the same cast, move forward to drag away the body and another gets down and starts scrubbing the blood away before it stains your wonderful ship floors.

"It seems," you begin, practically seething in your throne, "that Earth wants to become my... ally."

"... Mistress?" You uncross your legs and stand up, putting your hand out automatically. There is a gruesome squelch from your trident being forcefully taken out of the dead messengers body and you close your hand around it. You wipe the end of it on your stewardatiator's fine clothing, cleaning it of any blood, and then make your way down the steps and down the corridors to your personal quarters.

"Tell the Helmsman to make this damned piece of carp go faster, I need to be on Alternia three perigees ago." You don't bother paying attention to the stumbled response as you crumple the paper in your hands, finally going down into the seadweller section of the ship and into your room. The scroll crumbles in the water and you crush it to pieces, finally letting out your true amount of rage at the situation.

Practically everything turns red for you as you break fine china, lamps, chairs, tear apart curtains, rip apart wondering fish.

You find yourself puffing about five minutes later in the middle of your own mess. Floating over to the servants alarms you scream for someone to clean up this oink beast sty before you fired and personally culled every single goddamned staff member on this god damned ship.


End file.
